


Total Kitchen Dominance: A Tutorial

by Darker_Side



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe is rethinking the space she wanted, Crack, F/M, Lucifer knows he's a sexy bastard, Lucifer projecting as usual, Recipe links, Sexual Innuendos with Food, YouTube cooking tutorial, dominating kitchen work, get dirty, hands are best, kitchen daddy, kneading, manhandling food, mid-season 5a, obscenely sexual kitchen tasks, pizza diavola, prep is key, that's what mouths are for, wine pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darker_Side/pseuds/Darker_Side
Summary: Chloe had picked at the take-out container through an entire Sam the Cooking Guy video on a garlic bread steak sandwich,which almost had her dripping in her pants it looked so good, when she nearly choked to death at the next recommended video. Lo and behold, Lucifer was in the thumbnail, hands on a beautiful white marble countertop, leaning down just enough so he had to look up at the camera through his goddamn beautiful, thick eyelashes.--Chloe said she needed space to process the wholebeing a miraclething. Lucifer needs something to fill the void while Chloetakes her space. Enter the wonderful world of YouTube Cooking Tutorials... with a devilish twist.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 80
Kudos: 190





	Total Kitchen Dominance: A Tutorial

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [How to Roast a Turkey from Beginning to End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758676) by [Glitter_Lisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Lisp/pseuds/Glitter_Lisp). 



> Welp... so this happened.  
> I was inspired by a fic, and I just couldn't stop thinking about a Lucifer Morningstar spin on it.  
> I mean... come on. Tell me you wouldn't watch it.  
>  _Exactly_. 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Un-beta'd, as usual.
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful More_More for her help on the Italian Chef mentioned and on what is needed for a good Pizza Diavola recipe! 
> 
> **Recipes mentioned in the fic**  
>  [Pizza Dough](https://www.acouplecooks.com/how-to-make-pizza-dough/)  
> [Pizza Diavola](https://www.acouplecooks.com/spicy-vegetarian-diavola-pizza/)

She was a miracle. A  _ fucking  _ miracle whose purpose for exististing was to be the perfect  _ mate _ to the Devil himself. To say she was near absolute meltdown would be an understatement. Her brain felt twice-fried, and usually that was a word that made her mouthwater. It still did, and thinking about twice-fried potatoes with horrendous amounts of ketchup made her stomach growl obnoxiously, from neglect. 

Chloe groaned, leaning against her kitchen counter, in the dark, like the poor excuse of a functional adult she was when Trixie was staying with Dan. She had nothing to eat, nothing  _ new _ , anyway. Opening her fridge exposed the unhealthy amount of to-go containers littering the shelves, the single slice of American cheese in the small drawer would be laughing at her, if it had a face. Sighing, she grabbed the least  _ used _ looking Chinese container, smelling the top to ensure that it still smelled edible and not like it had been shit-out by the neighborhood racoon already. It was passable, teetering the line, even for her. She figured that Chinese food wouldn’t be the worst way to go, so she grabbed a fork and settled down at the small breakfast nook, laptop on the table in front of her. 

Although she was mostly a disaster in the kitchen, she loved watching cooking videos. Tutorials with bubbly people making the art of cuisine look easy and doable, even for a complete mess of a person she was. Everyone loved food, and watching people make it in fun, rambunctious ways was an easy way to pass the time. Which she had more of now. It was her decision to take a step back from Lucifer and his holy family, but the lack of excitement in her life was palpable. 

She took a sad bite of the beef Lo Mein as she scrolled through YouTube, through a variety of the cooking channels that she watched. She had her favorites, sure. Sam the Cooking Guy and Matty Matheson never failed to make her laugh, and they actually made cool shit. Good shit. If only she’d ever just fucking try one of the recipes. 

Chloe had picked at the take-out container through an entire Sam the Cooking Guy video on a garlic bread steak sandwich,which almost had her dripping in her pants it looked so good, when she nearly choked to death at the next recommended video. Lo and behold,  _ Lucifer _ was in the thumbnail, hands on a beautiful white marble countertop, leaning down just enough so he had to look up at the camera through his goddamn beautiful, thick eyelashes. 

The video was posted the previous day, and it already had millions of views. Of course it did. Lucifer was front and center, with that gorgeous face, with the stance of someone who  _ knew _ they controlled the room they were in. He was wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled, with a black, leather apron on. Yes. A leather apron. He looked like someone who was about to plate you perfectly and then dine on you for hours.

Like a breathing buffet table, the only utensil: his mouth. And just like that, she was wet.

She clicked on it before her breathing had fully recovered. How could she not?

A very simple, elegant Lux Kitchen appeared on the screen, fading to black again until the thumbnail came to life in the video player. Lucifer was there, smirking, leaning down on his hands on the counter, looking predatory and inviting. A catchy guitar tune played in the background as Lucifer just stood and smiled. When the riff ended, Lucifer opened his mouth to speak.

_ “Hello, my little dungeon dwellers,” _ he greeted, a hand waving just a few inches off the counter.  _ “Back by popular demand, it’s your host, Lucifer, The Devil, a.k.a. Kitchen Daddy, as a few of you naughty deviants prefer to call me in the comments.”  _ He winked and didn’t seem displeased  _ at all _ by the nickname. She couldn’t blame him. He  _ looked _ like Kitchen Daddy.  _ Please, daddy, feed me, I’m hungry _ . She baulked at her own thought, uncertain of where it came from. The fact that she was still hungry and ridiculously aroused was to blame. Surely. 

_ “Today, we’re not only going to serve up something hot to sink your teeth into, no, we’re also going to go over the fine art of Total. Kitchen. Dominance.” _ He held intense eye-contact with the camera, the last three words sounding more like a threat than a description of what was to come.  _ “We’re about to make a lot of things bend and fold under our touch, completely conform to our will, and get it all nice and hot. Make it stick. Make it permanent. Make this dish our bitch.” _ He smiled widely, innocently, like he had just given you a weather prediction.  __

Was this a sex thing or a cooking thing? Was it both? Honestly, she had no idea, but she wasn’t going to stop watching. 

_ “Today’s dish is inspired by a good friend of mine, Gabriele Bonci, and it’s a dish that he specializes in. Many years ago we got together with absurd quantities of fine Italian wine flowing through our veins and made the best Pizza Diavola we had ever had. _ ” Chloe watched as he smirked to himself, eyes darting down before coming back up. Pizza Diavola.  _ Of course _ . She watched as he went off into a story about nearly burning down Hell’s Kitchen, the irony of it hilarious, and then went about collecting a few ingredients.

_ “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, step 1: prep,”  _ he held up his pointer finger, raising an eyebrow.  _ “Whether that means compiling all of your ingredients into little bowls, ensuring every subject in the dish is completely ready for the main event, or just manhandling the ingredients around before squirting a little oil on them, preparation is key.”  _ Chloe nearly choked on her own spit, in her second, and most likely not her last, near death experience for the evening.  _ “Once everything is nice and warmed-up, ready to go, we can begin.”  _ There was a little transition screen of fire, and then he was back. She wondered if Lucifer knew how to record and edit videos, or if he had someone doing that for him. Well, knowing him, he probably knew how to film and edit porn, not cooking videos. Although, Lucifer’s version of a cooking tutorial seemed awfully pornigraphic. Lucifer's voice brought her out of her thoughts, before she went too far down the  _ Devil Porn _ train. 

_ “What does every bad little dish need? A base to hold everything, a bed to lay down on, something to hold in all the delicious little morsels until we’re ready to get our mouths on it. For this dish, that base is the crust. We need to make the dough. The foreplay to any pizza night.” _ Dear lord, she wasn’t going to make it past the sauce at that rate. Had he always talked like that, or was this a special  _ on-camera  _ persona? Whatever it was, it was working. 

_ “We’re going to be doing most things by hand today, to show you that you don’t need any fancy gadgets or toys to dominate. All you need are two hands and some creativity.”  _ He held up said hands, thick wrists proudly on display above rolled sleeves, and Chloe’s teeth dug into her lower lip. His ring glistened, as did his knowing grin, and he slid over a glass mixing bowl with the carelessness of someone who knew what they were doing. 

She wanted to listen, she really did, but then he started going over each ingredient for the dough, holding each one in his hands, caressing it like it was a precious thing before tossing them on the counter with slightly more aggression than necessary. 

_ “The flour is very important,” _ he said, sprinkling some in the bowl without measuring.  _ “Use high quality ingredients, get high quality results.”  _ He shook a little more flour out of the Tipo 00 bag before folding the ends over with dexterous fingers. He shoved the flour away and reached for a small jar.  _ “Measurements will be down in the description, and if you’ve prepped properly, been good and listened to me, you won’t need to remember them. They’ll be ready for you as you really get to work.”  _ He shook the jar twice over the flour, small, tan grains fell out. That had to be the yeast. He grabbed a salt shaker and shook a couple of dashes in, as well. 

_ “Get the dry ingredients in the bowl a little wet,”  _ he started, pouring water from a pitcher into the bowl before grabbing a very expensive looking bottle of olive oil.  _ “A little lubrication before we get our hands in there. Makes it easier, but not always necessary.”  _ He set the bottle down and then made a show of getting one hand into the mixture, using the other to spin the bowl as he combined the wet and dry ingredients. 

Once he had combined everything, he used his dry hand to sprinkle some flour onto the counter before dumping the wet lump of dough onto the counter.  _ “Now, it’s time to really put some muscle into it, get it nice and worked and ready to stretch for you.”  _ He lifted his arms to help his rolled sleeves come up past his elbows, completely out of the way. Chloe watched with rapt fascination as he made good on his word and really started  _ kneading _ . 

_ No one _ should make kneading look like a sexual act, but if anyone were to do it, Lucifer was the one to watch. He parted his lips, pushing down on the dough ball, rolling it under the heel of his palm before folding it and repeating the action. He kept it up for five minutes, switching hands, the muscles in his chest and shoulders bulging every time he pushed down on it. It was  _ obscene _ . A warm gush of arousal flooded her panties when he bit his lower lip, staring right into the camera, like he was looking at her, and the smallest of groans fell from his plush lips. 

“Shit,” she groaned, pointer finger coming up and fitting between her teeth. She needed something in her mouth, and she was about to grab the unused rolling pin she had stuffed in the back of a cabinet.She would have, she really would, if he hadn't finished with the pizza dough by expertly forming it into a perfect round of dough to proof in his hands.

_ “We’re done with this step, so put it back in a greased bowl, don’t want it to stick, and let it rest a little, get all nice and soft for you, while we continue with the next step.” _ He plopped the ball into a bowl with a satisfied smirk before turning back to the camera. Game-face on. He looked down at his hands that had bits of dough and flour stuck to them, then looked back up with a single eyebrow raised. _ “You’re bound to get messy, but that’s what mouths are for.”  _ He smirked at the camera as he sucked a bit of dough off of the tops of his knuckles, between his fingers, and Chloe wiggled in her seat, seeking the friction from the seam of her jeans. Yes, she was getting  _ that _ desperate. He sighed as he stripped his hands of all the scraps of dough, with his teeth, and his tongue. She watched that pink muscle slither out and, with the precision of a viper, collect all of the flour dust, as well. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to do what he was doing. It should be illegal. Where were the YouTube community guidelines for impossibly arousing and suggestive cooking tutorials?! What he was doing  _ had _ to be a violation of something. 

_ “Now, step 2: the sauce,”  _ he purred, reaching for something off camera and coming back with a can, a couple of garlic clothes, and a jar of oregano.  _ “We’re going to take this big-ass can of fire-roasted tomatoes and place them into a bowl with minced garlic, olive oil, salt, and oregano,”  _ he started, lifting the can with one hand and holding it out in front of him. In a show of his inhuman strength, that only a few actually knew about, he shoved his pointer finger through the top of the can and ripped the entire lid off. He winked at the camera, like a fucking smug bastard, and emptied the tomatoes into a new bowl. 

He reached into the front pocket of his leather apron and pulled out a fancy-looking knife. He crushed the clothes with the flat side of the knife, peeled them, and then roughly chopped them. His arms dancing around the place like some erotic ballet, he added salt, olive oil, and the oregano. 

_ “At this point, you could easily put everything into a blender and get yourself a smooth, well-beaten sauce. However, I like it rough, so I’m just going to crush everything with my hand.” _ Her jaw nearly hit the table as he dipped his hand into the bowl and started to crush the contents through his fingers until a rough, harty pizza sauce was formed. He pulled his hand out and started licking it clean,  _ moaning _ that time, and Chloe had to chant to herself to not cum in her pants. Not yet, not without her vibrator. What she was watching was vibrator-worthy. 

_ “Step 3: Cheese, or, the creamy white stuff. _ ” The on-screen Lucifer chuckled a little, obviously not immune to his own jokes, and Chloe had her third near-death experience. She hoped he was being serious about the cheese. Once he pulled himself together, Lucifer reached off-camera and brought over two large, white balls, of what she assumed was cheese.  _ “These lovely balls are Buffalo Mozzarella, famous for their creamy texture. _ ” He almost laughed again, handling the balls like some sort of billiards pro. 

Lucifer slid the balls around in his hand like Chinese meditation balls before picking up the knife he used to mince the garlic.  _ “So juicy, so tender, and they’ll give the perfect white markings over our reddened pizza crust. I can promise you that,”  _ he assured his viewers, pointing towards the camera with the tip of the knife.  _ “We all know streaks of white over red is to die for.” _

Chloe couldn’t… she just couldn’t continue. Not without  _ something _ to take the edge off. She didn’t want to masturbate to fantasies of Lucifer, especially not of him cooking, but it seemed like it was inevitable. She made it past the sauce, though, and for that she was proud. She quickly ran and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio off the top of her fridge, forgoing the inconvenience of a glass, and settled back into her chair as Lucifer continued to slice through said white balls of delicious cheese. He finished with a flourish of the knife, wiping it on his leather apron like a samurai would do after slaying a foe. 

She watched, waiting for whatever debauchery he would unleash next, but he just kept eyeing the sliced cheese like a starved man.  _ “Well, I just can’t help myself,”  _ he said, picking up a slice of the cheese.  _ “I’m not opposed to a little white stuff in my mouth.”  _ Lucifer fed himself the cheese, some of the wetness from the fresh cheese lingering on his lips, a translucent pearl drop on his lower lip, so fucking lickable. And there went number four. For her sake, she hoped she was like a cat. 

_ “Now,” _ he shouted, clapping his hands together.  _ “The next two ingredients could be optional, but I don’t know why they would be. Kalamata olives and hot salami.” _ Lucifer pulled over a jar of olives and then reached down below the counter, directly where his own  _ salami _ would be. He fumbled around a bit, eyes looking up towards the sky like he was searching, tongue poking out the side of his mouth, touching his canine before raising his brows as he brought his hand back up into view. In his hand was,  _ at least _ , a 14 inch (35.5 cm) salami as thick as her own forearm. She guffawed as he slid his hand over it, fucking  _ jerking it off _ , before giving it a nice squeeze and setting it down. 

_ “Olives are delicious on this dish. They’re little, salty bites, like the tears that should be flowing by now, with all this work we’ve put in, all this handling, all this attention.”  _ Lucifer started slicing the olives in half, tossing the pits over his shoulder carelessly.  _ “The meat,”  _ he said, raising his brows, eyeing the salami with admiration and knowledge.  _ “Now, the meat is important. I mean, who doesn’t want something hot and thick like this in their mouth?”  _ He says more, probably about meat and how awesome it is, but Chloe can’t really focus on that, not when Lucifer is handling a giant-ass salami in his hands like he  _ really _ knows how to work a thing of that size. It’s exhilarating. Logically, she knows he can’t be wielding something of that size, no man…. Her eyes went wide. Lucifer  _ wasn’t _ a man, well, not a  _ human _ man. Maybe angels carried a package the size of their power? A size proportionate to their fucking big-ass wings. 

Fear and lusty anticipation filled her mind. 

She’d fucking take that hot salami, alright. 

Her full attention was brought back to the video when Lucifer was sliding the sliced salami off to the side with the sauce, olives, and cheese. 

_ “Now that we have all of the main ingredients, we need to add the bit that makes this pizza a Diavola. A little kink, a little spice. A Calabrian chili!”  _ He holds up a short, stuby, red pepper and looks at it placing it down on the counter.  _ “Not that this was a concern, but it is not scaled to size, mind you.”  _ No, it certainly was not. Chloe hadn’t seen the thing hard, but she’d seen it soft a handful of times, and that pepper wasn’t even close. 

He sliced the pepper into thin rounds and placed them into their own bowl. He wiped his hands on the leather apron and then brought his attention back to the camera.  _ “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Lucifer, wash your hands, that’s hot as fuck’, but that’s not how we do things in my Kitchen of Sin. We don’t mind a little spice, a little heat behind our touch. In fact, if it stings a little more than it should, good, you probably deserved it.”  _

She was beginning to sweat, and she hadn’t even eaten anything hot. Spice sweats by indirect, imagined spanking. 

_ “Now, back to our soft, little mound of dough.”  _ Lucifer grabbed the bowl of dough and held it up above his head, out of camera sight, and the dough ball fell and plopped down in front of him with a satisfying  _ poof _ of flour. He eyed it hungrily, like a predator, and Chloe swallowed hard. What the hell was she in for with this?  _ “It’s time to stretch our little dough ball out,”  _ he started, grabbing the dough in both hands, digging his fingers in a little.  _ “Make it take it, because  _ it will _ stretch out for us,  _ it will _ take what we give it.”  _

Oh fucking Hell. 

Laptop screen Lucifer started handling the dough, pressing it down, pulling lightly with his fingertips in circles, stretching the ball into a flat surface. He was talking but she couldn’t hear it, she was fascinated by his expression. He  _ looked _ like someone who was doing something erotic, like he was really stretching out a human hole. He looked at the dough with such amusement and glee; she wished she could be the dough. 

_ “You could always roll this out a little to help, but I much prefer to use my hands for the stretching process.”  _ Carefully, Lucifer picked up the flattened dough and started to stretch it over his knuckles, almost tossing it to keep stretching, making it thinner and wider.  _ “I really like to feel the stretch in my hands. I like to feel it go pliant like a good little dough ball. Bad dough balls don't get such careful attention. They get pounded into submission. No stretching for them.”  _ Chloe couldn’t believe he was making the process of stretching fucking pizza dough so goddamn hot, but he was. Everyone watching his video wanted to be pizza dough, there was no doubt about it. She wanted to go through the comments, see what was being said, but she couldn’t bear the thought of scrolling down, missing anything he was doing or saying. 

_ “Oh, oops,”  _ Lucifer said, his finger poking through a small hole torn into the stretched-thin dough.  _ “Sometimes tears happen, and that’s okay, as long as we take care of it properly.”  _ He placed the dough down and started to patch-up the tear by adding more dough, repairing it.  _ “Even when we think the dough wants a little tear, it’s our duty to fix it, to make it better. Give it the aftercare it deserves. Afterall, it’s letting us do so much to it, the least we can do is a little care before we continue.”  _

She was going to die. Death by BDSM food puns. Beaten over the head by a studded, leather rolling pin. Hog-tied, mouth stuffed with an apple, a perfectly-plated pizza slice on the small of her back. 

Once the dough was adequately stretched, Lucifer moved the crust on top of a silver tray, dusted with what looked like corn meal.  _ “It’s time for my second favorite part: assembly!”  _ He pulled over all the prepared toppings: the sauce, the cheese, olives, peppers, and salami.  _ “This is where individual differences shine! Get creative with this part. Decorate your little creation to fit your wants, your desires. Make it pretty, make it ugly, whatever is beneficial for you and your dish.”  _ He started by laddling a spoon of sauce onto the crust, spreading it out perfectly, making it red like he said he would. He then placed slices of mozzarella and salami over the top, sprinkling the cut olives and rings of chili over the whole thing. It already looked delicious, and the pizza hadn’t even been cooked yet. 

Wiggling around in her seat, embarrassingly so that it looked like she needed to pee an hour ago, she watched as Lucifer bent down, caging the uncooked pizza between his hands, his arms, body boxing it in. He sniffed the air around it, loudly, mouth dropping open and teeth snapping together in a mock bite, eyes rolling beneath thick lashes. It was  _ sickening _ how fucking hot it was. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ he groaned, biting into his lower lips to calm himself.  _ “I could just shove my face in this right now, but I won’t. I’m not an animal. I can wait.”  _ He looked at the pizza for a few more seconds before looking up at the camera. He shrugged a little, rolling his shoulders while smirking. Yeah. She knew that look. It was the look that said  _ I can be worse than an animal, when asked politely. _

He, reluctantly, pulled himself away from the raw pizza, grabbing hold of the handle on the metal sheet the pizza was on.  _ “Alright, you’ll want a ridiculously hot cooking environment for this, so I’m going to pop on down to Hell, use the forge, and I’ll be right back.”  _ He started to move, but then froze, turning back towards the camera. _ “Of course, if you aren’t an angel, or the Lord of Darkness, you can just crank your oven up as hot as that bitch will go, and then bake until nice and crispy. You’ll know when it’s ready. The kitchen master always knows when the dish has had enough.”  _ The screen goes black right after he winks, and then the scene comes back, a cooked pizza sitting perfectly on a tray on the counter in front of him, still steaming. Her brows knitted together as she stared at the perfectly charred creation and she really was unsure if he had gone to Hell to cook a fucking pizza, or if he had been joking. No… he  _ would _ go to Hell to cook a pizza. Definitely. 

Couldn’t get the bastard out of bed before 11:00, but you could be damn sure he’d cook a fucking meal for you, hot-and-ready, right out of Hell’s makeshift forge-oven. 

According to the time strip, the video was almost done, and she’d be able to run upstairs and grab her vibrator in just a few more minutes. She’d been good, goddamnit. She’d survived Lucifer’s pornigraphic pizza tutorial without cumming hands-free. A ride with her vibrator was  _ well _ deserved.

_ “Now that we’ve put our dish through Hell and back, it’s time to savor all the time and energy we put into it. All the hard work, the dedication, to make it the best it could possibly be.”  _ A pizza cutter seemed to appear out of nowhere and he started to slice the pizza, a satisfying  _ crunch _ sounded as he did so. It looked amazing, stunning, and she was sure it tasted just as good. 

She wanted to eat it out of his hands, on her knees. Let him rub a slice all over her face just to bend down and lick it all off. 

_ “Now, don’t fret, I haven’t forgotten about a libation pairing for this dish,”  _ Lucifer chimed, as soon as a bubbling piece of pizza was on a plate. He bent down, looking through some cabinets beneath the counter in front of him before pulling out a dark, elegant-looking bottle of wine.  _ “Here we have a bottle of 1967 Bertani Amarone della Valpolicella Classico. A perfect pairing for our pizza Diavola!”  _ He worked on corking the wine, in a totally, ridiculously sexy way. The way he handled the opener, twisting the top, grabbing the bottle to pull the cork out with a satisfying  _ pop _ … it was all too much. Fanning herself, literally, she pulled out her phone and looked up the wine. She would definitely need a bottle, if only to remember the way Lucifer opened it. She had her fifth near-death experience when she saw the $690 pricing, and that was the cheapest. 

She could probably ask Lucifer for a bottle…

Getting lost in a daydream, she almost missed Lucifer drinking the wine, straight from the bottle, all while maintaining intense eye-contact with the camera. He tilted his head back a little, eyes hooded by lowered lids, thick, dark lashes framing the brown in his eyes. Again, it was obscene the way he could look so damn good doing the most mundane of things. He set the bottle down with a small slosh, purplish red clinging to his lips. He licked them clean, slowly, deliberately, and then, in the most natural of voices, he said,  _ “Let’s try the fruits of our labor, yes?”  _

Chloe found herself nodding, even though she had no delicious fucking pizza, although she had no one to see her nodding, although she wished she was the fruits of his labor and he was about to try her out. 

_ “Are you ready?”  _ he asked the pizza slice softly, smirking at it like it had just begged him to devour it.  _ “Yeah, you are. You’ve been handled, kneaded, stretched, decorated, and warmed-up. You’re ready for it. It’s what you’ve been made for. To be good for me, hm?” _

And that was… oddly personal to her. She felt a pang in her chest, the way he could say that and still look at the fucking pizza with such adoration. She watched a flash of emotion go across his features, like a flash-back, like he remembered something, or was thinking about something, before covering it with all his  _ Luciferness.  _

_ “And you are, so good for me. I’ve been made for this just as much as you.”  _

Chloe’s mouth parted for different reasons other than shock and arousal. She was either watching Lucifer do an oddly emotional ending to a scene, or he was projecting. Again. 

He clears his throat, looking at the camera with a bit of embarrassment behind his smile.  _ “It’s important to let the dish know you care, and you understand. That you wouldn’t be who you are without it. If there wasn’t a dish to make, what kind of kitchen master would you be?” _ He seemed to let the question marinate, like he was thinking of the answer for himself.  _ “A one without a purpose, that’s who. I’d like to thank the brilliant Ms. Lopez for her technical services. She always leaves the room for this bit, and I think you know why.”  _

Chloe’s brows furrowed at the mention of Ella (she wouldn’t definitely be getting details as soon as the video was over) and at why she would need to leave the room. 

She found out, that was for sure. 

Lucifer took the apron off, undid a few more buttons on his shirt, leaned against the counter, and slowly bit into the slice. The moan that reverberated from his chest was… well, no other way to describe it but sexual. He took a deep breath, a bit of melted cheese and sauce dripping down onto his wrist. He brought his wrist up to his mouth and licked it off, eyes finally opening towards the camera. 

_ “Fuck me, that’s good.”  _ He was really getting into the eating-for-pleasure portion of the tutorial, but he had enough control to add his send-off.  _ “Tune in next week where I’ll teach you How to Beat Your Food, and Eat It, Too!”  _ He shoved more food into his mouth, groaning and licking, and Chloe’s entire person was bursting into flames of want and need. 

She wasn’t sure how much longer he would be making love to the pizza with his mouth, but she couldn’t wait anymore. She was desperate for something inside of her, something that vibrated and could make her forget how to talk for a few minutes. 

She would have to talk to Lucifer at work. 

Maybe being made for him wasn’t so bad. If anything, it made them perfect for each other. 

Incredible in every way. 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah...  
> haha.  
> I hope I'm not the only one who found all of that nonsense funny
> 
> Hit me up in the comments! I'd love to hear from you guys!  
> I live off them, okay? Don't judge ;)
> 
> Until next time...


End file.
